Destoyer Squadron - Seek & Destroy
by Stephen Whitehead
Summary: Story about a TIE fighter squadron formed with the sole purpose to find and destroy Rogue Squadron


The first thing Captain Drake Tibsen saw after exiting the hanger door was a field of asteroids. He keyed his comm-unit, "Black One to ISlayer/I."  
  
An annoyed voice came back over the comm, "What is it now, Black One?"  
  
"Are you sure this is the correct exit vector?" he asked.  
  
With an indignant tone, the person on the comm answered, "We may be a new crew, but we do know basic astronavigation."  
  
"No offense intended, Sir," he replied, "I just thought that an asteroid field would be a more difficult location to train new pilots in."  
  
"You would think so, Commander," he heard from his comm speaker, "but the orders come from Imperial Center itself. The Grand Admirals want a new squadron to help tie up Rogue Squadron. Baron Fel and his 181st Squadron are far to busy keeping worlds in line to keep a constant bead on Rogue Squadron. They want you trained quickly, but also trained well. Now is not the time to talk about this, though. Go two klicks to starboard and await your new squadron."  
  
Drake clicked his comm twice to signal an affirmative then put thrust to seventy-five percent and went two klicks. IWow/i he thought. IThese new TIE fighters sure are fast/I. At that point, he rotated one hundred eighty degrees and found himself facing a shining, new Imperial-class Star Destroyer. IThe handling and control is perfect/I! he added to himself.  
  
Out of the belly of the Star Destroyer came eleven brand-new TIE Advanced fighters. They lined up in three diamonds leaving three Interceptors lined up behind Drake. He keyed his comm to the unit's frequency and said, "Cadets, welcome to Destroyer Squadron"  
  
A few congratulatory exclamations began flowing over the comm, but the commander quelled them by saying, "Cut the chatter. This is a military frequency. In the cockpit, you are no longer a civilian; you are a pilot in the Imperial Navy. I expect you to act like it. Understood? Now report in. Black One, check."  
  
"Black Two, reporting for duty," said a voice over the comm unit in Drake's TIE.  
  
"Black Three, two in the green," came over the comm a second after Black Two's confirmation did.  
  
Nine more confirmations came over the comm unit completing the unit of twelve TIE Interceptors.  
  
Drake began, "Now, this is a real exercise, not a simulation. You can be killed if you are not aware of your surroundings and your fellow squad- mates. As you can see, we are in an asteroid field. The exact location of this field is of no consequence to you. I do not even know."  
  
IHow did I get myself into this?/I he thought to himself. II'd rather be back on Coruscant attacking unwanted visitors. But high command has given me the "honor" or making a new unit with experimental ships to find Rogue Squadron. Finding and destroying those Rebel scum is fine by me. Antilles and his squadron killed three-fourths of my men in an ambush at Imperial X7 Factory Station EN-111. If it weren't for that Lancer Frigate Silver Sword coming in for fuel and supplies, I'd be dead for certain. Repay them I will. Yet, with a squadron full of new cadets who are wet around the ears, it will be nearly impossible/I.  
  
He hated to loose pilots, but this was the Imperial Navy. Loss was acceptable. He tried to not get attached to the new recruits, but it's hard to be someone with no friends. It hurt every time one was killed. He could see the faces and hear the voices of all his fellow comrades who were killed by those blasted Rebels who would never go away no matter how much you slaughtered them.  
  
Drake shook his head to clear the thoughts running through his mind. II don't have time to be thinking about this right now. I have a squadron to train whether I like it or not. Drake, pull yourself together and get with the program/I!  
  
The comm interrupted his thoughts, "Black Leader, bring your squadron four klicks starboard and await deployment of training drones."  
  
"Affirmative," Drake replied. He then switched over to the squadron frequency. "Black Squadron, I have our orders. Follow me to four klicks starboard of the ISlayer/I." A series of double-clicks was his only response. 


End file.
